Stories Of The Dead
by Clockwork's Apprentice
Summary: We all know how Danny Fenton became Phantom, but what about Desire? Ember? Ghostwriter? Walker? Clockwork? How did the ghosts of the Ghost Zone… become the ghosts of the Ghost Zone?
1. Prologue

**Author Note: Please Review!**

**Title: **Stories Of The Dead

**Summary: **We all know how Danny Fenton became _Phantom,_ but what about Desire? Ember? Ghostwriter? Walker? Clockwork_?_ How did the ghosts of the Ghost Zone… become the ghosts of the Ghost Zone?

**Genre: **Tragedy

**Rated: **T**  
Disclaimer: **_I do not own nor claim Danny Phantom._

**Important Notes: **Slight AU, I suppose. This is running off the theory that time is nonexistent in the Zone. In other words- you can die in the 21st century, be there for hundreds of years, and still go to 21st century, if that even makes sense. You can suggest a ghost or a back-story idea of one please. Each one will be a short- being about 500 to 1000 words BESIDES the prologue. Each one is written in third person.

**Prologue:**

The green and purple seemingly endless void that was the Ghost Zone seemed rather peaceful. There wasn't anything to determine what was really up or what was down- where the sky began or ended, if there even was a sky. It seemed to really just be a void- but it was beautiful and mysterious in it's own way. There seemed to be no such thing as time in the odd Limbo-like dimension, but it wasn't like its occupants really cared for knowing the exact time or even the year.

The Ghost Zone was something that no one knew every single thing about aside from perhaps Clockwork. It was a big mystery. What about ectoplasm? Where it did come from? How did it appear into the universe? Why did it exist? How did it appear? Was it always there? Was the Ghost Zone made by the Big Bang?

No one knew how large the Ghost Zone was or how many ghosts there were exactly. No one knew anything really about the Ghost Zone just that it was there and there were ghosts. It was dangerous and there were certain sections of the Ghost Zones were ghosts didn't stray and where only the super-powerful ghosts lived.

There must have been hundreds of thousands of millions doors and lairs in the Ghost Zone- hundreds of thousands of millions of ghosts. Each ghost was different from the others aside from the ectopuses and the ectoplasmic mindless ones. It was a vast plane of millions, billions, of sentient beings- each living an afterlife, and most having a life that they left behind when they died.

All of the ghosts of the Ghost Zone, yet not a single one uttered a question about how another had been made. How did that one die? Why is that their obsession? Did they have a family while they were alive? What happened to their family? Were they still mourning? Did that ghost ever wish they were still alive? Did that ghost ever wish that they weren't a ghost and could get peace? How was old was that ghost when they died? Did they ever marry? Did they have kids? What era were they from? What was their job when they were lived? Better yet, how did they die?

Not a single one of those thoughts leaves one's mind. Some might have died peacefully and some might have died tragically. They might have died in a fire. They might have been murdered. They might have just had an accident. They might have taken their own life. In the afterlife for each one of them knew that each one had a story that didn't want to be told for not all deaths are peaceful.

See, the biggest mystery, at times, wasn't the Ghost Zone- it was its occupants.


	2. Lydia

**Author Note: I decided to update early- I plan on adding the next ghost on Friday. If anyone has any ideas, let me know and if I use it, I will credit you for the idea at the beginning :)  
First up, Lydia- Freakshow's 'assistant.' Most of these are going to be 500- 1000 words, but I liked this idea so much that I kind of went a bit over the word limit by about 100 words I think.  
This is honestly a lot of fun, so I hope you guys enjoy it.  
~CWA**

**Lydia:**

"Time to show our true colors," Frederich said with a sly grin, "And by colors- I mean _black."_

Lydia grinned as well. Currently, her and her boyfriend- Frederich Isak Showenhower (mostly known as Freakshow in the circus) were at the mall that was close to the train tracks were the circus was at. They had a bit more freedom than the other 'freakshows' as Frederich's family owned the circus. As his girlfriend, Lydia was granted privileges as well.

Frederich looked over at Lydia as the two practically ran inside the store. He was used to Lydia not speaking- though occasionally she did say a few words, but it was wispy and soft. He knew that she was well capable of being loud- screaming in frustration when she thought no one could hear her. Yet, it was one of the things he loved about her- she let him do the smooth talking that got them out of trouble. Plus, they could play the 'mute' card to get them out of jams. Though of course he never said the words 'I love you' out loud, even if the two have been dating for four years.

Lydia's tanned skin that was covered in tattoos, her dark eyes, and her black Mohawk got them a few looks on the street (as well as Frederich with his Goth clothing, bald head, and red-ish eyes). Frederich glared at them and he glared harder at the men that stared at her clothing- her _revealing_ clothing. She wore what she normally did- a white corset, black skinny jeans, and black boots. The clothing left all of her many tattoos visible.

Yet, he felt that he was the only one that should be able to see that much skin of hers and that he should be the only one to ogle over her.

* * *

Frederich, AKA Freakshow, grinned madly at the crowd before him. They looked at him with grins and in awe. He wore his usual outfit while Lydia wore hers. Instead of black skinny jeans, she wore the black underwear-like bottoms, the white corset that laced up the front, black boots, and a red cloak around her shoulders.

"~Welcome freaks of all places," he greeted, "Might I present to you, Circus Gothica!"

Beside him, Lydia grinned just as madly. The two were the greeters- their job was to greet people who came to the circus. It suited them since they were the only ones that looked like humans- the rest of the freaks looked like they were dead.

While Frederich dreamed of being the ringmaster, the position currently belonged to his father. His father was a mad man- a freak just like Frederich. In many ways, Frederich never his father- yet he respected the man. He had to respect his father- it was dangerous not to with his father's record.

* * *

"Answer me, honestly, Lydia," Frederich said, "Do you really enjoy it here at the circus?"

The two were currently in loving position- both situated under the tree. Looking up at the night sky, Lydia's head rested on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her. She looked at him curiously before answering him,

"Yes," she said softly- her voice being so quiet he strained to hear it, "I do like it here… I'm with you…"

He kissed the top of her head,

"Thank you, Lydia… There is something that I wish to share with you…"

She titled her head as he continued,

"There is a secret, a family secret, mind you. It's about the circus and its… freak show. You recall Father's staff?"

At her nod, he sighed,

"The staff is more than a simple decoration, dear Lydia. The freaks look dead because they are… My family is specialized in ghostly artifacts and the staff is one of them… With it, we can control ghosts… Do you understand Lydia? The others in the circus, they're ghosts. My father holds them there. Now I ask again, do you like it here at the circus? With me?"

Lydia's mouth made an 'o' shape before she grinned madly with a nod. He smiled with her,

"Wonderful… So when father's time is passed, you will be happy to rule Circus Gothica along my side?"

She continued to grin,

"Of course…"

"Wonderful, Lydia. Simply wonderful…."

With that, the two mad lovers sat there, grinning crazily to themselves as they looked at the stars. Thoughts of the dead roamed Lydia's thoughts- all the possibilities and the wonder that were now opened to her. While Frederich's thoughts were on the wonderful woman beside him as he fingered with the small black box in his pocket. He opened his mouth to say something.

"Lydia I-"

"Frederich!"

He scowled deeply and Lydia looked at him confused. A frantic fellow circus member ran up to them,

"Your father requested you."

Frederich gave Lydia a small smile,

"Another time, perhaps, my dear."

With a quick kiss, he soon disappeared into the dark with the other circus member, leaving Lydia alone and a bit confused.

* * *

"LYDIA," Frederich hollered in fear as he ran.

He ran like his life depended on it. While his life didn't, Lydia's might. Her body lay mangled and distorted in odd angles on the ground. _I knew it was a bad idea,_ Frederich thought. It was his idea for Lydia to try the high-wire act- it was her dream to be a part of it. Yet, she never could build enough courage to try it. He pushed her into, convinced her that she could do it. His father disapproved so the two had to sneak into the high-wire tent after the circus was closed and after most of the members were asleep.

They weren't stupid- there was a safety net… Yet apparently they didn't set it up right, the ties came undone. She fell straight through and hit the ground in a horrifying thud. Frederich was by her side in a minute. He cradled the bloody, broken body of his love in his arms. He cried out in anguish as tears were in his eyes,

"Lydia… my love… I love you…"

He finally said the words- the words that he's been meaning to say for the longest time. It was the words that he meant to say to her the previous night, when they were stargazing. It was the words that he meant to say, as he would've pulled out the ring. She was supposed to say that she loved him too, and she was supposed to say yes. She was supposed to kiss him. Yet, she didn't move. She didn't breathe. She didn't make a single sound. He held her body close in a desperate, childish attempt that if he could just hold her close enough, get her warm enough, love her enough, _need_ her enough that she might take a breath of air- that she might live…


	3. Nocturne

**Author Note: Please review! I already have the ideas for Clockwork, Ghostwriter, Johnny and Kitty, Walker, Desiree, and Prince Aragon with Princess Dora. So if anyone has any ideas for the other ghosts, please let me know!  
~CWA**

**Nocturne:**

"Well, Dr. Nocturne, last night I had the strangest dream," the client said as he lay on the sofa.

Across from the client sat the therapist, more of a dream interrupter really.

"Go on," Dr. Theodore Nocturne encouraged.

"Well, I was in a locked room. It was all gray. There were no windows and no doors. It was so dark and I felt so cold."

Dr. Nocturne nodded as he translated the meanings of the dream. _Dark, cold, no escape, gray…_

"… And there was vinegar. It felt like the whole room was being filled with vinegar, is that odd, Doctor? What does it mean?"

"Well," Dr. Nocturne began, "Vinegar is a sign of negativity, perhaps jealousy. You say the room was gray? Gray usually is a sign that of negativity and fear…"

"And what's your interpretation, doctor?"

"Well, my theory is that you you've been depressed lately, especially since it appears to be a reoccurring dream as our last sessions have been of similar things… Perhaps you are filling yourself with negativity and fear instead?"

* * *

Dr. Theodore Nocturne rubbed his temples as he looked at the papers in front of him. His grayed hair that seemed a bit oddly shaped was starting to thin. Years of age had taken away his perfect, strong, lean body. Over one of his dark green eyes was a faint scar that he had gotten in his youth and he wore it as a badge of honor.

_I do so like dreams, but nightmares at times are less thrilling._ His old black suit was very worn, yet he had it for over ten years- it was almost sentimental.

_I'm getting too old for all this paperwork, I'm nearly ninety. _He sighed, knowing that he did still have to do it. Thus was a consequence of running a business- especially one specified around psychology.

Though, he loved his job. Of course he did, what wasn't to love? He got to hear the dreams and hopes of all of his clients, study them, and more importantly- he got to study their dreams.

_Dreams,_ he thought,_ the true gateway to the soul._ Dreams told him what people's hopes were, their fears, desires, and essentially- if you understood the dreams, and then you understood the person. More often than not, if you understood the dream, then you understood them better than they understood themselves.

If he could only see his clients' dreams as they were dreaming, then he would be able to conduct fuller studies and better evaluations. But alas, if he had such a power, he would abuse it and only harbor the dreams for his own personal amusement. He would be more powerful, more confident, and strongerthan anyone_…_

Perhaps he shouldn't have the job of a psychologist when he himself wasn't entirely sane all the time?

* * *

That night, everything felt different. He just couldn't place why something felt different to him. Going with his gut feeling, just before he went to bed, he grabbed the houseline.

"_Grandpa-pa, is everything all right,"_ Annalise's voice answered.

"Ah, yes, everything's fine," he said as he shook his head, "I just felt… compelled to call you, I suppose… Is everything all right? Are you okay?"

"_I'm fine granddaddy, are you sure you're okay? It's really late."_

_"_I'm fine, Annalise… Have sweet dreams, I love you."

"_I love you too, granddaddy… Goodnight."_

_"_Goodnight, my June bug."

He hung up the phone, a small part of him felt more completed. He briefly looked over to the picture of his late wife on the nightstand- the picture from their wedding. It was tragic that she had died and at times, she still haunted his dreams. He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes… Falling into an eternal sleep.


	4. Walker and Bullet

**Author Note: Please review! Bullet is one of the ghost guards, by the way.  
~CWA**

**Walker and Bullet:**

Steven Walker was the first on the team to respond. Sitting in the passenger seat beside him was his partner- his second hand man- Carter Johnson, or as people at the station called him, Bullet. He was nicknamed that for being such a great shot, especially on the field.

Walker dodged every car, every obstacle, as he drove after the punk.

"If only people followed the rules," he growled, "Then maybe everything would be a bit peaceful!"

He served violently and Carter held tight- knowing that Walker was _determined _to catch the criminal. It was understandable since the person that they were chasing was Kyle Robinson- better known as Scooter on the streets, leader of one of the main gangs in San Francisco. He was a wanted man and if anyone could take that punk down, it was Walker.

Walker was the best on the team for a reason. He was smart. He was quick, good on the spot, a good shot, and most of all- merciless. If someone broke the rules, then they broke the rules- end of story, regardless of the conditions. Rule breakers, _criminals,_ had to get caught.

When the punk had crashed the get away car and made a run for it, Walker jumped out the cop car to go after him with Carter close behind. The stars in the sky above them weren't visible with all the lights- yet even if with the streetlights, it still seemed dark and dreary. It was San Fran, after all. It was never safe after night, and the fact that Walker was still chasing the criminal was just an example of that.

* * *

"Damn it," Walker scowled.

Walker was quick to be at Carter's side. Carter was on the ground, the bullet wound right in his side.

"Damn it, Carter, you'll be alright."

"Go after him, Boss," Carter coughed, "I'll be fine."

Walker gave a firm nod and then chased after the criminal. _This is what happens when punks don't follow rules. It's chaos. It's madness. It's… disgusting. _

* * *

"Freeze, punk," Walker shouted the order.

Like most criminals, the man didn't freeze. No, but he did stop running since Walker managed to corner him in a dead-end alley. Panic started to set in the man,

"I can't go back to jail…"

"You should have thought of that before you broke the rules, punk."

The man's eyes darted around frantically. When he saw no sign of how he could get out of the mess he had made, the man raised his gun and fired at Walker as he dashed off.

"DAMN IT," Walker shouted, but he coughed.

_Shouldn't have underestimated that punk- didn't think he would shot…damn it… damn it all…_

Walker fell to the ground harshly and he wished that he could hear sirens- but alas the only thing he could hear was silence and the pounding in his ears. There was no backup coming- he was foolish for even thinking that he could do it without backup. Now that punk would be on the streets.

_If he followed the rules, I wouldn't be in this position and I wouldn't be dying._

Dying was something that every officer should take into consideration; after all they had a dangerous job. Though Walker never thought about it. He supposed in a way that he thought that he was invincible, that every law of life and death didn't apply to him. So when his time was coming, he didn't know where he would end up, if anywhere at all…He just knew that he was about to find out what happened after you die….

So he accepted his fate and he closed his eyes. His mind filled up with images. He thought of the moment he met his wife- it was at a bar after a hard night at the station when he first started out. He thought of the moment when he first held his baby girl in his arms. He remembered when he first met Carter, his new partner on the force, their first arrest. He thought of Carter's pregnant wife. He didn't dare to think what they would say or do when any of them got the news of his and/or Carter's death, that way, he could die with a smile on his face.

But when his last thought drifted to the punk that killed him… if the punk only followed the rules, Walker ended up dying with a scowl.


	5. Ghostwriter

**Author Note: Please review!**

**~CWA**

**Ghostwriter:**

'_He picked up the girl and spun her around. For the first time in his life, he got to see his daughter's smile.'_

James Holland, also known being a ghostwriter for all of his works published under an anonymous name, scowled as he wrote. Being a ghostwriter, one that no one knew the true identity of, gave him a sense of comfort. The book he was currently writing, however, was going to be the first under his real name and therefore, it would his best yet.

"No, no, no, this isn't right."

He back spaced the whole sentence and started over. There was a small lamp for his source of light, his laptop, lots of miscellaneous papers, crumbled papers, chewed up pencils, old pens, a few picture frames with pictures of his sister and their parents and her family, and more. Around his cluttered desk were lots of crumbled up paper, an overflowed trashcan, and empty takeout containers.

Besides his desk, there was only a bookshelf and a printer in his small office room. It was technically just the extra room of his small apartment, but it worked all right for the job. Though, his bedroom, kitchen, and living room weren't in much better shape. His clothes, crumbled papers, trash, and books were all over his apartment. Lack of a feminine touch not only left his apartment very messy, but dull and dark.

It wasn't his fault that he had no time for a relationship, not when there were things to write and books to read. He ran a hand through his hair and then pushed up his glasses. Hearing his stomach growl at three in the morning, he sighed.

He saved the document and shut his laptop, packing it into his bag. He wrapped his scarf around his neck and put on his purple jacket, grabbed the bag, and then headed out.

* * *

"Still working on that book," Jade asked.

Jade was the waitress at the café. Her long red hair was always pulled into a bun and her bright green eyes shined under her glasses. She wore the standard uniform of the café- yellow dress and a white apron with her nametag. She was used to seeing James Holland every night at the oddest hours.

"Yes," he answered crisply, "I'll have my usual."

"Of course."

She brought him a scone and tea as he sat down at a table. He took out his laptop and started to write as he eat and drank.

* * *

"You know," Jade said, "You're lucky this is a 24 hour café, but you better go home and get some rest."

"No time to sleep, almost done," James didn't even stop typing as he answered.

The sound of fast clicking filled their ears, but to James it brought comfort, to Jade- it brought slight annoyance. Finally, she gave up and continued to work. It was already six in the morning with the sun not even up in the sky; James had been here for the entire night, writing on his book.

"Done," James cheered, "Finally! This will be my best one yet!"

"You can use our printer to print it out," Jade offered from behind the counter.

James gave a nod of acknowledgement and printed out all 500 pages of the book. When he was done, he shut the laptop down, packed it up, and headed out with the 500 pages in his hand. He needed to go see his publisher after all. It would be his best book yet and he couldn't wait- no, he was too excited. He knew it would be a hit.

However, as he ran out side, he made a mistake. He didn't pay attention to the oncoming traffic. The last thing he saw was the bight headlight of an eighteen-wheeler.

People cried out in horror as his body lay there in the middle of the street. His laptop was crushed into ruins and the 500 pages were scattered- ruined by the dirt, the puddles from yesterday's rain, or from being soaked his blood. His greatest masterpiece yet- never to be read- it was his worst fear that followed him to the grave and beyond.


	6. Klemper

**Author Note: Hint 1- Klemper died from radiation from a power plant. Hint 2- It takes place in 1986. Hint 3- The town in which Klemper's in was evacuated shortly after the power plant exploded and is now a ghost town (He was left behind). Now, an invisible cookie to the person who can guess which power plant it is and two invisible cookies to the person who can also guess which town he's in.**

**Three invisible cookies to the person who can suggest a way that one of the ghosts died. I currently have ideas for- Ember, Prince Aragon & Princess Dorothea (Dora), Desiree, Kitty & Johnny 13, Dairy King, Undergrowth, Clockwork (who will be the last one), Wulf, Frostbite and Technus. Now, all I need is Youngblood (I have one idea, but I don't think I will go with it), Box Ghost, Amorpho, Lunch Lady, Spectra & Bertrand (did I spell that right?), Pariah & Fright Knight (I'm trying to do those together), Skulker, and Hopta-Ra (Should I do that one?). I'm pretty sure that's every ghost in the show- please let me know if there is more. **

**~CWA**

**(P.S. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS! IT REALLY MAKES MY DAY! This is one of the stories that I am most proud of!)**

**Klemper:**

Klemper looked down at his hands sadly. No matter how many times he asked, no matter how many times he tried, they always said no. Everyone always said no. Why didn't anyone want to be his friend? What was wrong with him? Nothing that he could see since he thought he was fine the way he was. Yes, he did have a few imaginary friends, despite being eight. Yes, he did only have one parent- his mother- but what was wrong with that?

Why wouldn't the other kids play with him? He sniffled again. He looked around desperately for his mother. She said that she would be back soon. She said that she just had to go get something. She left him there, outside at the park, all alone. He didn't think that she would take this long… It felt like it's been days.

So there he was, still waiting for his mother to return to him and occasionally asking any nearby kids if they wanted to be his friend. Everyone knew him as 'that kid on the bench- the one in the pajamas that's always asking for friends or his mom.' It was sad, yet it was true. He was the kid on the bench. He was in his pajamas. He was always asking the kids to be his friends. He was always asking if anyone knew where his mom was.

It was only 1986, so the parks should be busy with people and kids- out on picnics since it was only April. It was, but not nearly as busy as Klemper thought it should be. There were more kids than adults that seemed to show up and the kids didn't like him. They didn't want to be his friend. They didn't care about him.

He didn't understand why the few adults that passed him did so with a sad look in their eyes and would just shake their heads. He didn't understand why none of them would answer him where his mom was.

Once an adult was mean- they told him that his mom abandoned him and that they would take him away. He hit that mean adult- that got the adult to leave him alone. His fists clenched just at the memory.

His eyes lit up when he saw a group of kids playing. He smiled at them,

"Hello, will you be my friend," he asked hopefully.

The kids quickly disappeared- running away farther into the park.

* * *

Minutes turned to hours. Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks. He didn't even realize it. He thought it had only been an hour. Pitying adults had given him food and water occasionally and that was the way that he survived. It was already April and he realized that everyone seemed to have disappeared. That wasn't right. Where did they go? If they left, why didn't they come and get him? Soon, the animals seemed to have been gone as well. That wasn't right. There was no news that he had heard- no disaster that he knew of.

Klemper didn't even notice the air turning thick and the discoloration of his skin. He didn't notice his face distorting over time. He just noticed the figure in the distance that seemed to be wearing some type of suit.

"Will you be my friend?"

The stranger looked up, surprised. She opened her mouth to reply, but Klemper died before he could hear the answer.


	7. Prince Aragon & Princess Dora

**Author Note: So no one really got it (though a few were close)- but that's okay since I was kind of vague. I wasn't sure how to write it. Basically, Klemper was a kid in Pripyat, the town that was evacuated soon after the explosion of Chernobyl. The problem? No one told Klemper to evacuate and he died of radiation poison… Just as a person in a suit (the HAZMAT that looks like an astronaut suit) came to the town looking for bodies.**

**~CWA**

**Prince Aragon & Princess Dora:**

In a far away distance stood a dark castle. Knights, jesters, maidens, drunks, and more roamed around aimlessly or roamed chaotically when the news hit- the King and Queen were dead. The prince was to be King in a month and no one was quite happy to hear that news.

Nearly everyone in the castle and the village could agree that the prince was a tyrant and sexist- as was most men of the time. Yet, the prince seemed to take it to a new level, going as far as to ridicule the princess. The poor princess Dorothea was someone that most felt sorry for- she was soft-spoken, petite, and small. She was the opposite of her brother- the two were even opposite in appearances. Princess Dorothea with her long blonde hair in a braid and blue eyes contrasted to her older brother's black hair and dark eyes. She had a kind, warm heart that had good intentions and her brother had only a cold, empty heart. They truly were two different sides of the same coin.

* * *

"You should know better to hold your tongue, dear sister," Prince Aragon hissed at Dora.

"My apologies," Princess Dora bowed her head and then she turned to the guests with a bow, "My humblest apologies to thy lords. I shouldn't have spoken at loud."

"You shouldn't even think it," Prince Aragon whispered, "You shouldn't think at all… Remember that dear sister."

She just nodded her head. She was used to her brother's bullying antics and belittling. However, it was getting much worse since Prince Aragon was soon to be king. She wasn't happy with that fact- as were most people of the kingdom and nearby kingdoms.

She briefly glanced down to the necklace around her neck and the identical one around her brother's. The necklaces were gifts from their parents- it was a symbol of their power, strength. Princess Dora, along with others, truly believed the rumors and legends of the necklaces. It was said that if the wearer were to get angry enough that the wearer could turn into a dragon. Of course, Princess Dora believed it to be true since it was- unlike the others who believed it out of fear and superstition. The princess knew the truth for her parents had explained it to both her and her brother- the only other person to know the truth was the trusted advisor.

Yet, her parents thought the necklace as a way to control anger- that if you got angry, you would truly know the damage of such anger. Princess Dora took the advice to heart, yet her brother only wanted to use the ability to overcome the kingdom once he was king. Then, he wished to take over the neighboring kingdoms, and then far off kingdoms.

She only wished that she had the strength to stop her brother as she held her head down. Nearby, the trusted advisor looked upon the Prince with a small frown of disapproval. Merek was only a few years older than the Prince, yet his father was the previous trusted advisor to Dorothea's and Aargon's parents- the deceased Queen and King. His black hair reached a bit past his ears and was a bit wavy. His face had stubble, but he was rather handsome. He looked at Princess Dorothea through the corner of his eye in concern. Their relationship must be kept a secret- he was only an advisor and her brother wouldn't approve. She feared her brother's anger worse than anything.

Merek feared only what Prince Aragon might do to the wonderful Princess. It was natural for him to be concerned and worried. After all, Princess Dora was his lover and he would go to any lengths to ensure her safety.

* * *

It came as a surprise, but not necessarily as bad news. The maid had found the prince's body dead, lying across the floor with blue lips and a cold touch. In his dead hands was a gauntlet that had spilled. The maid had screamed and within seconds, others had swarmed into the room. Within minutes, the news had reached everyone outside the castle. Within a span of ten minutes, the news was spread across the whole kingdom and almost every single one of them was rejoicing- all but one.

Princess Dora paced nervously. She wasn't too sure what to make of her brother's sudden death- just months away from him being King. She knew that her subjects were happy since they would rather have a meek woman rule (and who was likely to marry a man a lot better than Aragon), than have just her brother rule.

Prince Aragon, however, wasn't gone- perhaps in body, but not in spirit. It took him but a few moments to realize what he was and just how to use it to his advantage. He made sure to stay invisible, even if he was angry beyond relief. His eyes flashed as his pupils were slanted and his tongue was slightly reptilian. He growled. He was sure that he knew exactly who murdered him- who dared to poison his drink. There was only one person that could benefit from his death- his sister.

"I don't know what I shall do," Princess Dorothea whispered.

"You could rejoice," a voice answered from the doorway.

She turned in surprise, but relaxed when it was Merek- the one person she could truly be free around. She smiled softly as Merek walked in.

"My dear," he bowed, "Might I say, this is wonderful news. Not only do you get the crown that you deserve, but you do not have to worry about your tyrant of a brother."

"I suppose you are right," Princess Dorothea said as she shook her head.

_Right,_ Aragon thought enraged, _Right?! That crown belongs to me and me alone… _

* * *

"You should be careful of whom you murder, dear sister," Prince Aragon's voice whispered as he appeared in her room at night.

Princess Dorothea turned in shock and stumbled backwards. She fell to the ground in horror, a hand covering her mouth as she let out a soundless scream. Standing, or rather floating, in front of her was her brother's ghost. She struggled to move backwards to get as far away as possible from him. His skin was blue and his eyes and hair changed slightly in their color. Around his neck, he still wore the necklace and in his hand, he held a small dagger.

"M-murder," she whispered, "I-I d-did no su-such thing! Pl-please brother!"

"Begging will you get you no where," he hissed as he stood down to her level, "Because I will get my revenge."

He plunged the knife into her body with a hiss. This time… her scream was anything but silent.


	8. Desiree

**Author Note: Please review!  
~CWA**

**Desiree:**

"Dance, slave," the ancient Arabian king demanded, "Dance!"

Desiree held in her disgust and did as instructed. It wasn't like she had a choice- she was a slave after all. Though she wished that she were _just _a slave. No, she was a part of the King's harem and thus a prisoner in her own body at times for her body did not belong to her. She had to do whatever was asked and allow as many touches as he wished- even if she didn't wish it.

It was Ancient Arabia and the entire kingdom would have looked beautiful- the sands, the sand, the castle. To Desiree, however, there was no beauty, just a constant reminder that she was a prisoner. She wished to go outside into the market, into the sands, even if it was a desert- it would mean that she was free.

Her darkened skin and long black hair seemed to stand out with the pink Arabian dancing outfit that she wore. The gold bands on her arms, head and neck, and the golden bangles on her wrists were shining in the dim light of the sun as the King demanded for her to dance… and dance… and dance…

* * *

_One day, I will be free of this,_ Desiree thought as she scowled and got dressed, _one day, no man will lay a hand on me unless I wish it. _Though it was only that- a wish. It was all that she could do- wish. She could only wish for freedom, for a part of her knew that it wouldn't become a reality. Sometimes, even in her dreams she wasn't free for the times that she had nightmares. Those were the worst for even her dreams were plagued with unwanted touches and actions.

"We'll never be free," another dancer whispered, "But is it so wrong to hope? To dream?"

"To wish," Desiree added.

The dancer and Desiree shared a look of sorrow before finally walking out of the king's quarters.

* * *

Desiree smirked to herself as she kept her head down and the hood up. Years of being contained and she was finally free- to a degree. Moving through the crowds with the cloth cloak around her, concealing every inch of skin and most of all- concealing her face. It wasn't easy, no it was rather difficult for her to sneak into the king's room unnoticed, grab a cloak, and disappear out of the castle. Around every corner there seemed to be guards, a dancer, or the King himself. Yet, she managed to do it- with the help of another dancer of course.

However, that dancer couldn't get out herself and for that reason, Desiree felt a pang of sorrow. She knew in her heart that she had to go back into the castle when she was finished exploring, as much as she hated it. She had to get back in there to help think of a way to get her 'sisters' free.

"Magic lamp," a guy at the market advertised, "Magic lamp! Just rub! Three wishes! Two gold coins!"

She looked down at her palm where three gold coins lay. Shaking her head, she clenched the coins and walked away from the vendor not wanting to waste the coins. Still, at the back of her mind she wondered if genies truly existed.

She grew up with the stories, as did all children. There were stories about genies living in lamps, giving the owner of the lamp three wishes- usually with a few rules and usually with a twist. The moral of the story was usually to be careful what you wish for.

_If I wished for freedom, I doubt that even a tricky genie could make anything any worse,_ Desiree thought grimly.

Yet still, at the very back of her mind, hope lingered for the existence of genies- if anything to savor that childhood innocence. Then again, it might be mistaken for child's naïve personality. She would never admit it, but she did so wish that perhaps if her wish couldn't come true- perhaps she could help someone else's come true.

* * *

Desiree cried out as the King lashed her.

"_Slave,_" he spat, "I give you food, shelter, and this is my repayment- an attempt at escaping."

Desiree gritted her teeth in pain and agony. The King showed no mercy as he motioned for someone to take her away.

"Get this pitiful creature out of my sight," the King demanded, "she's to be beheaded in the morning… Make sure it's quick as I do not want to miss my morning meal."

* * *

Her last thoughts, just as the sword was brought down to her neck, were simple wishes of freedom. _I shall be free, to go to a place where perhaps I can make someone's wish come true…_


	9. Kitty and Johnny 13

**Author note: Well, my idea is that Johnny had a dark entity (Shadow) that attached to him when he was alive, so when he died and became a ghost, Shadow became a sort of minion/friend/pet. Also yes, Merek was the one that killed Aragon.**

**~CWA**

**Kitty and Johnny 13:**

"I'm telling you, Johnny, ghosts are real," Joan scolded.

Johnny, her boyfriend of 2 years, just scoffed. Joan, commonly known by her nickname Kitty, huffed at her boyfriend. The two had just got a shabby apartment of their own- by faking a few documents and licenses of course. Yet, they had to go live some place. It wasn't like they were going to live on the streets after running away together. Kitty, and Johnny, wouldn't stand for that, even if they were both only eighteen.

Johnny sat slouched on the couch lazily. He was used to Kitty's ghost antics- she was a firm believer. In fact, she was convinced that a 'dark entity' was following him around everywhere. In a way, it would explain why he felt that his shadow was moving when he wasn't. Yet, he remained a skeptic of anything and everything paranormal.

"Come on, Kitty, there's no such thing as ghosts."

"Yes there is! I'm tellin' you, this place is haunted. Just think about it- all the doors opening and closing-"

"-You mean the loose bolts," Johnny explained, but Kitty continued.

"The shadows moving-"

"-Trick of the light."

"-And then there's you."

"Wait, what," Johnny said confused.

Kitty sat down beside Johnny. She didn't wear too much- just a skirt and a simple shirt. The red jacket that he got her laid on a nearby chair along with her scarf, purse, and shoes. She was determined to get comfortable in the new apartment- even if it gave her the creeps and the barely had anything in the old place. She ran a hand through her dark brown hair,

"You, Johnny. This thing, these paranormal events, they only happen when you're around and they follow you everywhere."

"Haven't we been over this before, kitten, there's nothing following me!"

Kitty bit her lip, but stayed quiet. She knew full well that something was following Johnny- something dark. He never noticed it, at least she didn't think he did. Yet she has- she noticed the way his shadow seemed to move on its own at times. She noticed the way his eyes seemed to change when he was angry. She noticed that he got angry anytime that it was brought up- though a few years ago, it didn't bother him. Maybe it was just her- maybe she was wrong. Yet her gut was telling her that something wasn't right.

She's put up with a lot of shit with Johnny. She's put up with him hitting on other girls- when she was and wasn't around. She's put up with him being a jerk sometimes. Yet, she loved him that was why she was only going to try to do what was best for him- by warning him about the dark entity.

* * *

Kitty screamed at the top of her lungs,

"Johnny slow down!"

"No way, kitten," Jonny screamed back, "This is too much fun!"

"No it isn't!"

Hearing her cry, Johnny winced. He didn't want to scare her- he wasn't going to tell her that the brakes weren't working and he wasn't going to tell her that they were going down hill. He had little to no control about their speed and they were speeding up pretty fast. He loved her too much to tell her and worry her.

The stars above their heads seemed to stare back at them- hauntingly. Kitty gripped onto his waist tightly.

"Johnny… please."

Her voice cracked and he broke.

"I- I can't kitten… I'm sorry…"

That was the last words he spoke as the eighteen-wheeler came around the bend at the bottom of the hill. It hit them from the side and they were done for. The driver stopped ahead as soon as he could. He looked at horror at what he had done- at the two bodies laying on the ground, broken and bloodied. The boy's body was wrapped around the girl's in a failed effort of trying to protect her. The motorcycle was a distance away from sliding across the ground. The two bodies had a few bones sticking out, blood every where on them and on the road… They weren't breathing.

He looked at them in absolute horror, failing to notice the slight shadow of the motorcycle move on its own. He looked around frantically before jumping back into his truck- guilt about the hit and run disappearing the farther he got away.


	10. Wulf

**Wulf:**

Eric Morrison pulled the hood up over his head and kept his head down as he made his way through the small Brazilian village. He may only speak Esperanto and not know a single word in Portuguese, but he figured that Brazil was the safest place for him, especially the jungle part of Brazil. It was large and there was no way that he would be able to hurt anyone. He needed to go to Brazil due his rather… _unique condition._

He huffed slightly. It was a long journey there and it wasn't easy. Yet, he needed to get there before the full moon. If there was a full moon when civilization or any people, it would make things dangerous- for himself and others.

_If only I retained my mind when in wolf form._

* * *

For the next two nights, the full moon shined down upon everyone. Normally, most of them enjoyed the night sky. It was calming to listen to the sounds of the jungles, yet those two nights were just filled with terror. All that the people heard was growling and howling from the jungles. Something about the way it sounded made fear settle into them. It was unearthly. It was… frightening.

Because of the canine-like howls, they dubbed the beast Wulf. Rumors spread around the village of it being a large alien. Others said it was a werewolf. Some claimed it was an angry forest spirit. Either way, one thing was clear- it was dangerous.

Parents locked up their houses. No one was to go out after sunset unless you were a guard. No one was to make any noise. All torches and lights were to be one. There were to be three guards to protect the village. One was stationed on the East end, one on the South end, and the final was at the North end. They weren't too concerned about the West end, not with the large river there.

The river was… _Wild_. It was constantly moving and impossible to ride a boat on. The rapids would drown any creature not made for the water. For that reason, they were almost _hoping_ that the wolf- that _creature_ that had been terrorizing the village would jump into the river.

* * *

Eric looked up at the night sky. He prayed that he wouldn't venture into the village. There was no way he could live with himself if he hurt someone. He took a deep breath and as the last full moon of the month shined in the skies above, he transformed.

His clothes, thankfully, were safe and put up in a tree. Past experiences proved that if he didn't strip before transforming, he would be bare until he found new clothes. Yet, if he stripped and hid his clothes some place safe, he knew where they would be the next morning. _At least it's the last night…_

His face became distorted as it became canine. His already sort-of long black hair grew longer, as did the hairs all over his body as it all turned to the black wolf fur. He howled in pain as his spine and bones distorted to match that of the large wolf.

When the transformation was complete, he wasn't human. He wasn't even himself. He was just…The Wulf.

* * *

The guards fell asleep that last night of the full moon. They figured if the creature didn't come into the village the previous nights, it wouldn't the last night either. They were wrong.

A horrid scream sounded, waking the guards as they ran to the source. Villagers disregarded the rules as the men came out of the huts, ushering their wives and children to stay indoors. When they reached the source, they found Mira- an older village woman. She was hunched over, her face scrunched up in horror, and tears were flowing down her face.

_"My child,"_ she cried, _"it took my child!"_

Everyone's expression hardened as they heard that the very thing that they were trying to prevent had happened- a villager was taken and possibly injured. At once, all the men were speaking.

"_Calm down,"_ one of the guards snapped at everyone.

He turned towards Mira,

"_What happened? Why were you out? What did it look like? Where did it go?"_

"_I'm not sure… We came out to get fresh water. We couldn't wait till morning… My child… It came out of the bushes and grabbed my child! It's a large black wolf, it's… it's not a normal wolf. It was much too large… It took my daughter… It headed back into the woods! Quickly! Bring back my child! Please!"_

Mira was begging and the guard nodded,

"_Tonight, we hunt for The Wulf and we will kill it…"_

The men erupted into agreements as they grabbed their weapon with one goal in mind- saving the child and killing the beast.

* * *

"_Over here,"_ one of the men called, "_I found her!"_

When the others ran over, they found the men standing there with a sorrowful expression. In his arms, he held the limp body of the mere four-year-old girl. Her eyes were still open in horror. Her skin was pale. Blood covered every inch of her. Her torso was ripped opened, eaten…

Not a single one of them could utter a single word to describe the horror.

_"It will see Hell this night,_" whispered one of the men.

* * *

When they found the creature, it was standing by the river, just watching. It was much larger than a normal wolf and as black as the night sky. It sniffed at the air. Without uttering a single word, spears flew through the air at the beast.

It howled out in pain as the spears pierced its body. It ran as fast as it could, the spears' arrowheads still in its lungs, its leg, and its side. Finally, it collapsed. Its breathing became rigid. It's lungs were filling with blood as the fur started to disappear from its body.

The now bare and dying man turned and fell into the rapids of the river.

_Oh Dio, what did I do… _


	11. The Dairy King

**Author Note: Happy Easter everyone! Sorry this one is a bit rough, but I promise the next one will be better and hopefully longer. **

**~CWA**

**Dairy King:**

William Henry Ford, also known as the Diary King, smiled as he walked through his extravagant mansion. It was everything that he had ever wanted in life. There was cheese and dairy everywhere. He was living the life. He was rich. Plus, he was _well fed. _

Perhaps some might call him crazy for being so passionate about the cheese and dairy, but it wasn't just that. Growing up, he always lived on cheese and dairy. It was his favorite. He didn't regret a single thing. Besides that, the mansion was also his passion. It was his home, more than that- his dream house.

He dreamed about living in a mansion like this one for the longest time, ever since he was a little child. To think that now, his dreams have come true- it was a wonderful thing indeed.

"Denise," William said with a smile, "Can you tell the cook to get dinner ready?"

"Of course," his maid bowed her head before she scattered away with a smile.

All the maids, servants and butlers loved William. He was a bundle of joy. Of course, they believed him to be a bit naïve to the world, but still a good person nonetheless. He was the best master that they could have- he was kind, sympathetic, and overall very good. It would be a tragedy to all of them should something happen to him.

* * *

William picked up the picture. _I wonder if I will ever see her again._

His wife was beautiful. Her round face with big round green eyes and curly brown hair framing it was cute. Her plump figure was almost always adorned with a long dark green dress. Yet, in the picture she was wearing a white dress just as he stood beside her in a black tux. It was the day of their wedding.

He remembered her so well, even if it had been two years since she passed. _She used to be so kind, but she was passionate- fierce when she wanted to be… She loved food as much as I do. I remember when she was so strict to those kids- she loved those kids like they were own, but we couldn't have any kids…_

He smiled at the picture sadly before he set it down and headed down to diner. As much as he would love to see his wife again, he wouldn't want to see her any time soon.

* * *

"So what's for diner this time," William said as cheerfully as he sat down at the rather long table.

In front of him was a silver platter with a lid. A delicious smell still managed to seep through the cracks and crevices and William took in the smell happily- it smelt like beef, carrots, gravy…

"A wonderful stew," the cook bowed, "Prepared especially for you with a cheesecake for desert."

The cook took off the lid revealing a large bowl filled to the brim with the dark brown stew that had pieces of beef, carrots, and other vegetables right at the rim.

"If I may," William said politely, "I'd like to have desert first for once."

He laughed and despite the request, the cook obeyed, bringing in the large piece of cheesecake. William, for once, just wanted to try something new. He felt that his life was following into repetition and he wanted to spice it up a bit- if only a little.

He didn't say grace before he took the first bite. As he swallowed, the large bite caught in his throat. His face started to turn blue as he coughed and hacked for air desperately. He tried to hit his stomach, anything to get him to get the food out. The waiters and servants scrambled to help, reaching from behind him and pressing his stomach, just above the belly button.

But alas, it was no use. Within a few seconds, he stopped struggling. He stopped moving all together. His jaw was open and limp with a piece of food still lodged in his throat.

_I didn't want to go…_


	12. Spectra & Bertrand

**Author Note: I know that Dairy King is kind of a not-so-cool ghost, but I swore that I would do all the ghosts so yeah, that includes him. Besides, I think he's pretty funny. Anyway, here's the next story…**

**This idea was given to me by Kaedephantom! So big thanks to them for the idea for Spectra!**

**~CWA**

**Spectra & Bertrand:**

Penelope Spectra frowned. Her green eyes drooped from exhaustion. Yet, she was still a bit glad that her office was finally closed for the day- even if she still had paperwork to do, at least no one else would disturb her.

"Bertrand," she barked, "Can me a coffee, black… I have a feeling I might need it for tonight."

She rubbed her temples at all the paperwork still sprawled out on her desk. Bertrand didn't bother to disobey her as he quickly left her office with a mission. He wouldn't ever disobey her- did she occasionally annoy him? Yes. But he still loved her… Not that she realized that of course- she never would. She was always too absorbed in herself.

She grabbed a mirror from her desk drawer and checked herself for any touch-ups that might be needed. Her flawless skin was almost glowing. Her eyes, while tired, still were perfectly outlined in black eyeliner and eye shadow. Her red hair was still in a perfect shape, the way she wanted it to be. She was beautiful, flawless, _perfect- _just like she always wanted to be. She would get as many surgeries as needed if it meant staying this beautiful when she was older. She would do anything to stay beautiful. It wasn't a wish; it was an obsession, a _need. _

* * *

_I was so beautiful, how did I end up here?_

She lay on a hospital bed, draped in standard gown- gone was her designer clothes. She had an IV in one arm and she's been through too many surgeries for her to keep count. The doctors were always doing something to her throughout the past year; she hasn't even had a chance to look in the mirror. It was driving her nuts. She might have cancer, but that wouldn't stop her from looking her best. _Nothing_ could stop her from being beautiful.

"Finally," Penelope muttered, "Bertrand, fetch me a mirror."

Bertrand hesitated, wondering if he should really show her what she looked like. Finally, he gave in and fetched a small handheld mirror. _He's just a loyal assistant,_ Penelope thought to herself. Bertrand had stayed by her side throughout everything, despite her being rather vain to him. He stayed with her and she knew that he would stay beside her.

He handed her the mirror, wincing to himself. She gasped in horror and put a hand to frail cheek. Her skin had started to turn yellow. Her hair was almost nonexistent. What left of hair wasn't really hair at all. No, it thin, almost straw-like. Her cheekbones were more visible than usual due to her rapidly losing weight.

"No," she whispered, a few tears falling, "No! I can't look like this! I can't! Bertrand, go to the doctors! Get them to fix me! I can't look like this! I'm hideous!"

Penelope continued to shriek, almost at the top of her lungs. All of the words that left her mouth were negative- she wasn't beautiful; she was hideous. Bertrand wanted nothing more than to calm her down, assure her that she was beautiful. Though he knew that it would do no good.

_I'm hideous,_ Penelope thought horrified as she desperately tried to use the hospital sheets to cover herself- hide her. No one could see her like this- not even Bertrand. _I'm not beautiful… I need to be beautiful… I always need to be beautiful…_

* * *

Bertrand looked down at the pictures with a sad smile. His eyes started to water, but he paid no mind. There were three pictures in particular he was looking at- the pictures that he had framed on the shelf of his apartment. The first one showed Penelope Spectra, in all her beauty, before the cancer. The second one showed her when she was in the hospital, when she had called herself 'hideous.' The last and final picture showed the funeral for when she lost her battle with cancer. No one besides Bertrand showed up.

He unframed the second picture as stepped on a stool, the picture and a letter in his hand. The picture showed the sickly Penelope sleeping as she didn't want any pictures to be taken when she was 'not beautiful.' Yet, he felt the need to take a picture. He hoped that it would be a memory when she won the battle- but she didn't win. He looked at her picture with a sad smile before he fit the noose around his neck and stepped off the stool.

His body hung there limply. The letter and picture fluttered to the ground peacefully. The picture landed face-up with the letter write on top of it. In his neat handwriting, it read,

_I will always think you're beautiful, my love._


	13. Box Ghost

**Author Note: Okay guys, credit to whoever made that comic/picture that showed a human Box Ghost with the box with a picture in it. I can't exactly remember where I saw the comic or what was in the box or who made it or even if it was a picture, fic, or a comic that I saw since I saw it a long time ago and my memory isn't so good. However, as I was writing this, I remembered that and it inspired me.**

**~CWA**

**(P.S. Sorry for all the feels!)**

**Box Ghost:**

Joshua Howard wiped the sweat off his brow as he finished up the days work. He loved working in the warehouse, though he knew not many of his coworkers thought the same. Perhaps they didn't see the beauty of it? With every box packed and pressed, it was all a mystery and a joy. Would that box he just put up hold a man's gift to his wife? An engagement ring? A toy for a child? Old clothes? Would it become a memory box? Or just something to hold your wires in the shed? It was a mystery and that was beautiful to him, knowing that one day that box he just put up and just packed would become a part of someone's life someday- maybe it would be something small, maybe it would be something big and important. He never knew and he never would know.

After all, he had a special box himself- a very special box that was dear to him. Knowing that maybe one of the boxes he just packed might become something just as special as his special box was something to look forward to everyday he went to work.

* * *

He smiled to himself when he got home. It was a pretty simple apartment with just one bedroom, a small kitchen area, one bathroom, and the main room. It wasn't in the best condition of all time. The walls were cracked. The floor squeaked. The doors occasionally were loose off their hinges. The toilet seat was crooked. Sometimes he found a mouse in the cabinets in the kitchen. Yet, he was content with the small apartment. He was happy, even if he didn't have someone to share it with anymore.

After changing out of his overalls, he sat on his bed with a PLOP, wanting to just fall asleep. As much as he loved working at the warehouse, it was tiring. His eyes drifted to his opened closet door and he could barely make out the small square shadow on the top shelf of the closet- his special box.

That box meant everything to him and there was nothing more important than that box. He just hardly ever opened it since sometimes it made him happy. Other times, looking in the box made him sad. It made him remember everything that was lost to him.

As he lay on bed, he struggled to get to sleep. Even with his eyes closed, the image of the box in the closet still bothered him. It was taunting him… It was luring him to go look inside. Something inside his gut told him that he never knew what might happen tomorrow, or the next day. He never knew when he might get a chance to look in the box again, to feel happy inside- complete. If he died tomorrow, or the next day, or next week, without looking in the box again, then he would die unhappy.

With that in mind, he finally got up and went to the closet. He pulled out the small box, about the size of a shoebox. In fact, it was an old shoebox, but it was so much more than that. He sat down on the bed and laid the box in front of him. Pulling the lid off carefully, the things inside the box came into view.

There wasn't much in the box. There was a child's toy in the box that was cracked with age and pure black as if it was burned at one point, which it was. There was an old silver necklace that held a small heart charm and was rusted and burned. Finally, there was an old picture, its corners were burnt slightly and there was a few places were it was torn. The image itself was almost yellow-tinted. It wasn't much, but it meant the world and more to Joshua.

He delicately ran his fingers of the small child's toy, remembering the small hands of the child that used to play with it. He smiled sadly before looking at the pictures. He picked up the old silver necklace and he remembered how he used to attach the necklace around her neck. He remembered how she would take it off every night before they went to sleep and how she loved to wear it everyday since it was his first gift to her. Lastly, he picked up the picture. It showed a smiling Joshua in his overalls with a small child on his shoulders. The child was laughing as a woman stood next to Joshua. She had the necklace around her neck and a large smile on her face.

He gently touched the frayed corners of the picture and his eyes showed a great sadness as he remembered the fire. The fire that burned the child's toy, burned the necklace, burned the picture… Burned them.

The items in his special box were all that was left of the house and of them.

* * *

When he went to work the next morning, he was smiling to himself as he remembered the items in his special box. Yes, they were gone, but the happy memories lived on in him. Work went on as usual with him packing the boxes with a smile, and everything was well… Until _it_ happened.

"Joshua! Get out of the way!"

Joshua's eyebrows crinkled in confusion as he looked up slightly with a gasp. The whole metal shelf, which was as tall as five men, that held all the boxes- some of which held the heavy tools for their work- was wobbling. Before he could get out of the way, he screamed as the shelf fell on top of him. The heavy tools in some of the boxes fell out. A loose screw or two lodged itself in him. A loose piece of metal from the shelf had lodged itself in his chest. Blood started to form at the bottom of his body.

He was dead, his last thoughts being about his special box.


	14. Youngblood

**Author Note: Special thanks to Allietheepic7 for the idea for Youngblood!**

**~CWA**

**Youngblood:**

His parents stood a bit away from him as they watched him play in the living room. His skin was a bit abnormally pale and he was dressed as a pirate. His obiedant parrot, trained to stay by him, flew nearby him.

"Come on ye scallywags," Billy Youngblood said as he made a cutting motion with his fake sword.

His mom gave a small smile,

"Dear, is this really necessary?"

"Yes," his father said solemnly, "You know as well as I do that if he goes outside and makes friends, they'll only hurt him or they'll get hurt by him."

His mother's eyes filled with tears- the fact that Billy had no friends for a reason was just a reminder about what was wrong with her son. He had cancer and they didn't know how long it'll be before he dies, or gets better- though the chances of him getting better weren't very good since he was diagnosed when he was even younger than he was at the moment. He's been in a hospital most of his life and it was the first time in a while that he was allowed to be home, if but for a short time.

His parents never let him make any friends- for his safety. If he made friends, then he'd be heartbroken if he went back to the hospital and wasn't allowed to have visitors- which happened occasionally. Worse, they didn't want him to make any friends and then have their son die, leaving that friend scarred for life. Still, they did get him that parrot- it was trained to stay by Billy. So he sort of had a friend- a pet counted, right?

It was better this way… Or at least, that was what they kept telling themselves.

* * *

Billy looked out the window at all the other kids playing. Then he looked to his parrot,

"I wish I could go out there and play!"

The parrot squawked and Billy nodded, his child mind pretending that the parrot was talking about to him.

"Yeah, it's no fair that they're making me act like an adult!"

He jumped up on his bed, his home-made astronaut costume shaking as he did so,

"I don't wanna grow up! Being a kid is awesome!"

Then he plopped down on the bed and looked back through the window,

"If I had friends that is…"

The parrot squawked again. Billy nodded,

"You're right! At least I have you!"

* * *

Billy was back in the hospital again. He huffed slightly. He hated it. He hated being in the hospital. He hated his parents for making him go here. He hated that he had to wear a stupid gown and not some cool costume. He hated that he had to sit still. He hated everything. The only thing he didn't hate was his parrot… Unluckily, his parrot died just the day before he ended up in the hospital.

His parents would pay for it- they would pay for making him stop being a kid. All adults would pay for it. It wasn't fair. He just had to wait until he was out of the hospital to make it happen.

However it was the last time he would ever be put in the hospital for cancer because this time…

When he got out of the hospital, he was riding in the back of a hearse, cold and dead.


	15. Frostbite

**Author Note: To allietheepic7: Thanks for the help! Your idea for Frostbite is real close to my original idea for it and don't worry! I already have an idea for Clockwork- he will just be the last one that I write since he's special (he's Clockwork…)**

**Also, I meant to update sooner but there was so much going on (semester finals, family members that I take care of, etc.) that I didn't have time to work on it.**

**~CWA**

**(P.S. If anyone gets the reference as to where I got Frostbite's human name from- Robert Frost- then invisible cookie to ya! Seriously, I'm just curious to see if anyone will catch it and I will do that occasionally- use the appearance or name of a cartoon character, band member, or poet to see if someone notices-.)**

**Frostbite:**

A lot of people considered Robert Frost crazy for his chosen profession, but he didn't regret it. There he was, in the Antarctic with his team of scientists and hikers. All of them were dared for a single purpose- studying the wildlife, weather, and waters of the Antarctic. It was something that all of them volunteered to do- none of the others wanted to join the expedition.

So, there they were in the cold with a large camp with every basic necessity that they would ever need. They had water, food, _warmth._ The only danger was from Mother Nature- the weather, the waters, and the animals. They could fall into a crevasse, get into a white out, get lost in a snowstorm, get swept away in the wings, get lost, get attacked by an animal, or freeze to death in more ways than one.

Despite all the dangers, studying the Antarctic was his life and it always would be. There was something about the vastness that fascinated him. It wasn't just the organisms- the microorganisms to the seals- or the cold brisk air, or even the beautiful sky. It was just the whole mystery of the Antarctic- the fact that it was so large, yet remained so unknown. There was still so much for them to learn about the icy wonderland and he wanted to know everything about the wonders of the ice.

He wouldn't trade it in for anything in the world.

* * *

Robert shivered slightly as he made his way through the mountains. Despite all the layers of clothing he wore, the cold still nipped at his skin and on his face. Pulling the piece of cloth over his face even more, he hoped that it would help. He trudged his way through the mountains, not sure where he was or where he was going.

No, he knew where he was _trying_ to go. He was trying to get back to the camp. The snowstorm got him turned around and worst- it got him hopelessly loss. Even him, with his large height and towering figure, didn't stand a chance against the harshness that was Mother Nature.

The snow whipped around him furiously in a flurry storm. The winds howled throughout the vast mountains and it echoed in his ears. His many layers of clothes were covered with frost and snow, mostly ice crystals. Snow seemed to find its way past the layers and some of it scraped against his skin. The sky wasn't visible through the all the snow flying around and even if it was, he thought it would be just clouded like it usually was. It was around this time that he regretted deciding to take the hike. Not too long after he had started the hike did the snowstorm start to hit and temperatures reached practically unspeakable degrees. His arm was the first thing to go. He feared that he would have to get it amputated when he got back because it was still and hard like ice. The cold air was getting worse and he was chilling.

For a moment, his greatest fear became the idea of him freezing to death.

Luck wasn't on his side.

The chill eventually caused his body to fall cold dead.


	16. Undergrowth

**Author Note:**

**Thank you, _Iblamepie, _for the idea for Undergrowth! It helps bunches! **

**Replies-  
To allietheepic7: **I'm glad you know who Robert Frost is! He is well known for the poem "Fire and Ice" though I personally like his more known poem, "The Road Not Taken." Also, I do have ideas for Ember, and Technus- though I do love hearing your ideas! And I really like your ideas for Syndey Poindexter and Amorpho. Actually, the Amorpho one is extremely helpful since I plan on doing him after Skulker (who I think I will be doing next) and I had no idea what I was going to do- so thank you! I love hearing your ideas!

**To Chavonnie26: **I'm glad you're a fan of Robert Frost since I am too and "The Road Not Taken" is my favorite poem and it is a good motto to live by. Sorry for the confusion, Robert Frost wasn't a scientist nor did he go to Antarctica- I just used that name since it fit Frostbite so well.  
**To Liliana Dragonshard: **I'd like to say thank you for all your reviews and I know the stories are pretty sad, but that's kind of what I'm going for ;)  
**~CWA**

**(P.S. Just because I don't reply to a review doesn't mean I didn't read it! I read all my reviews! With that said, please review!)**

**Undergrowth:**

Admon Woods smiled to himself as he gently poured the water over the flower,

"Drink up, darling. You need all the water you can get."

After watering the flower, he looked at his wondrous greenhouse. It held every plant that he could manage to get his hands on- everything from a single sunflower to something like the Venus flytrap to even a few Encyclia Citrina. The greenhouse itself looked like it came right from a jungle with the way the vines hung from the ceiling, concealing a lot of things like some precious secret. The plants weren't organized- they looked as if they were just growing wildly and that was the beauty of it all.

The plants were a part of his job- he was an environmentalist. Though, his love for the plants in his greenhouse went beyond his job.

He loved taking care of plants- it was simple as that. He loved that all plants needed the same things- nutrients, soil, water, sunlight,- yet they were all so different. It amazed him by all the colors, shapes, and designs that were found in nature. So, his passion for plants was what led him to his current job. He wished to protect his 'children' as they could not protect themselves.

* * *

"This will be perfect," Admon whispered to himself, "Absolutely perfect."

He held the delicate flower in his palm carefully. His hands were adorned in elbow-length sterilized gloves. In one hand, the flower lay delicately and calmly, and in his other hand, he held a small vial that could make him famous forever. More than that, it would be a giant leap in scientific discoveries.

The vial that could change his life forever was dark green and small pieces of leaves floated around in the chemical mixture. His 'recipe' could make plants live forever- never again would they have to destroy the Earth. Plants would be eternal and immortal. His precious children would be safe from the evil humans that wished them harm.

"Just one drop," he whispered, careful to not get the serum on himself.

If that serum would to touch his skin, not even he was sure what could happen. The serum was made specifically for plants- not humans. If it touched him- he could get some disease, his skin could burn off, the possibilities were endless. Though more than likely it would kill him.

He tilted the vial ever so carefully.

_BOOM! Thud-thud-thud…_

The train that wasn't too far from his precious greenhouse made a loud sound and startled him. He cursed as he lost his grip on the vial and it got tossed into the air. He screamed as just a single drop of the serum touched his face- his exposed flesh.

"AHHH!"

He clutched his face desperately. The serum burned his flesh as it absorbed into his pores. Hunched over, he gasped for air. A dark green spot was on his face with lighter green around it, turning his skin a green color. The veins in his face become visible as the serum flowed through them, turning them light green.

Finally, he fell to ground- the serum finally reached his heart.


	17. Skulker

**Author Note: The idea for Skulker goes to _Xenos394_- thanks bunches for the idea!  
~CWA**

**(P.S. Thank you guys so much for liking the story and reviewing! I do appreciate it! If anyone has any idea for the Lunch Lady, Pariah Dark, or Fright Knight- please let me know I'd really appreciate it.)**

**Skulker:**

Alexander Hunter was a small man with a big mission and an even bigger ego. Despite being a foreigner from America, he was known as the best bounty hunter and mercenary in Europe- he earned the title fair and square. Therefore, he planned on keeping it, even if that meant taking up the dirtiest assignments that there was. So there he found himself, hunched over in the dark shadows as he watched his target converse with the others.

_You're mine, prey._

His target was Piero Turati- an Italian mobster in charge of what had to be one of the biggest drug deals in Italy. With a position like that, it was easy to see how Piero earned himself enough enemies- one of which was brave enough to hire Alexander to kill him.

It wouldn't be his first kill and it wasn't going to be his late. A kill like that, however, would add a lot of credit to his name- or rather, his alias name Skulker- a play on worked for the word skulk. He skulked his pray like a predator in the wild and he felt no shame in it. Though, many had trouble believing that he was Skulker- _the _Skulker.

Alexander wasn't exactly the biggest man on the field. In fact, he was the smallest. Many of his targets went over Alexander's small 5' frame (inherited by his mother's side of the family). Though for someone so small, he made up for it with fierceness and determination.

Though some may consider his work cold-hearted, it wasn't like he had anything else to do. He had no family left- they were all gone and six feet under. He had no wife, no kids. He was a lone hunter in his heart and he planned on acting on his natural knack for tracking people and animals down. It was how he liked it.

Up on his spot on the roof of a nearby building and hidden from sight, he was sure he was safe from being spotted… He was wrong.

"Hey little man," someone said from behind him.

That was all he heard before it all went black.

* * *

When he opened up his eyes again, it was all black and it didn't take long for him to figure out that it was due to a black bag being over his head. He couldn't see anything, but he could tell that he was stripped of all his weapons and potential things that he could use as weapons. He was only thankful that he could at least feel the fabric of his clothes still on. However, he could also feel the ropes around his wrists and his feet. He tasted something metallic in his mouth- blood. His upper lip was bleeding and he was aware of the pain in his sides. He was beaten while he was knocked out.

_This is what it comes down to,_ he thought with a scowl, _no honor. _

He hissed as the bag was ripped off his head and he spit out a small amount of blood from the torn upper lip.

"You think you can just come here on my territory unnoticed," Piero said as he stepped into the light.

A small single light bulb dangled above their heads. He could see ten, perhaps more, mobsters all around him with guns, muscles, and a menacing look. Piero himself looked rather menacing with the slicked black hair and meaner looking face. The thing that set him apart from the other mobsters was the more slick suit that looked cleanly pressed- never dirty.

_No, he has men to do the dirty work for him._

"See, that's the things with you Americans," Piero said as he stepped closer, "You're so arrogant that you think you can just _not get killed._ And that's where you're wrong."

If Piero was going to kill him, Alexander wished that it would happen soon- then he wouldn't have to listen to all the yapping.

"But here's the thing," Piero said, "Just killing you is no fun. No lesson learned…"

He went towards the door on his way out, leaving the other mobsters besides two that must've been personal guards,

"Oh and boys- teach him a lesson, would you?"

Then there was pain- so much pain.

* * *

"I hope you learned your lesson," Piero sneered.

In front of him, there was Alexander- broken and bloodied. He was barely breathing, but he was alive and suffering. That was exactly what Piero wanted- he wanted Alexander… No, he wanted the so-called best-bounty hunter Skulker to suffer and _beg_ for his life. Piero knew, however, that the man before him was far too egotistic to do something as pathetic as beg for his life. So, he decided for something different.

"Put him down, boys," Piero ordered.

The mobsters pushed Alexander down as he coughed up a small amount of blood. His hands were tied behind his back. He felt pathetic- small. He couldn't help but wonder if he was better, stronger, smarter, _bigger_ than perhaps it wouldn't have ended up the way it did.

He noticed that one of the mobsters held an ax and with Piero's nod, the ax came down on his neck. With a few choppy cuts, his head fell to the ground. Though, what haunted Alexander's last thoughts was that he left a single hunt go unfinished- _failed._


	18. Ember McClain

**Author Note: Lyrics to her song, _Remember,_ was from _LyricsMode_ so if that's not the correct lyrics- I apologize. Also, I did _try_ to keep last chapter a bit tame and not _too_ gruesome. **

**~CWA**

**(P.S. WARNING- SENSATIVE SUBJECT! READ WITH CAUTION!)**

**Ember McClain:**

_"It was, it was September. Wind blow, the dead leaves fall."_

Ember McClain sang quietly as she strummed her guitar, letting her feelings come through in her song. It wasn't completed yet, in fact, she only had the first few lines and a chorus. It was a work in progress and it was her life- it was the only way that she could let out her emotions. So there she sat in her mostly empty room at her home. No, it wasn't a home. A home was someplace where you were safe and where she was at wasn't safe. It was simply just a roof over her head and a crappy bed to sleep on.

She stopped strumming the guitar to stop for a moment. She took a deep breath and then continued,

_"To you, I did surrender. Two weeks you didn't call."_

Then she stopped all together to look over her lyrics that were written a bit sloppily on a piece of paper.

_"Your life goes on without me. My life, a losing game. But you should, you should not doubt me… You will remember my name…"_

She wondered if she would ever be able to finish her song.

"Shut up with the music," her father's voice called out from downstairs, "you bitch!"

She rolled her eyes, but did as she was asked as she set down the guitar. Her father wasn't exactly the best man in the world. He was a drunken idiot with a hot head and a fist that he wasn't afraid to use.

* * *

"Ohhh there's Ashley," a few voices in the hall mocked as she made her way to her class.

"It's _Ember_," Ember growled, "Don't forget it!"

"Oh," a guy mocked, "But why would I want to remember someone like you?"

Ember growled again, but before she could throw a punch, the school bell rang. Feeling like she didn't want to get another detention or expulsion, she glared and made her way to class. It wasn't anything new- the mockery, the bullying, the name-calling, the rumors… She was used to it. They always hated her.

So why would they want to remember someone like her? She thought of the chorus of her song and of the people that unintentionally helped her make the lyrics.

_"Ohh Ember, you will remember,"_ she sang softly under her breath, "_Ember, one thing remains… Ohh Ember, so warm and tender. You will remember my name."_

* * *

She ran up to her room in tears. Her father wasn't home and that was the only good thing since she didn't want to see him- not while she was like. Her hair was a mess, her eyeliner was smeared, and her eyes were slightly red and puffy from the crying. Her prom dress was in ruins from the rain puddle that she fell in, but frankly she didn't care… And apparently neither did he.

She should've known better. She was stupid to think that the most popular guy in school- her crush- would ask her to prom and for it to not be a joke… They laughed in her face. _He_ laughed in her face. They called her so many names that she just didn't want to think about it. She thought of the next lyrics to her song, but she didn't sign them out loud.

_Your heart, your heart abandoned,  
You're wrong, now bare the shame.  
Like dead trees, in cold December,  
Nothing but ashes remain._

She had enough. That was the last straw. She wasn't going to deal with it anymore- what was the point? All they did was laugh at her and mock her. They didn't care about her. She didn't have any friends. Her father was an abusive drunk. What was there for her in the world? Nothing.

She grabbed all the papers from her journal, notebooks that she had doodled their names in, and her own songbook. She grabbed a lighter from her drawer and tossed them into the trashcan as she watched them burn- burning like her own passion for death. She grabbed a single clean sheet of paper from an unused notebook and sloppily wrote down her last words, ignoring the few tears that stained the paper as she did so.

The night sky shined through her window as she grabbed a long piece of rope and set it up. She stood on her desk chair and hung up the noose, crying as she put it around her neck.

There was a loud BANG as someone walked through the front door and slammed it, shaking the trashcan in her room.

"Bitch! Where are you," her father's voice called out.

Ember didn't even say a thing as she prepared to step off the chair and break her neck… No, she wasn't high enough for it to break her neck. More than likely she would choke to death. Then she realized her trashcan, alight with burning papers, had fallen over. Flames quickly took hold of her wooden flooring and entrapped her in her room.

Finally she closed her eyes as she stepped off the chair, the flames burning her body and her hair.

_Ohh Ember, you will remember.  
Ember, one thing remains,  
Ohh Ember, so warm and tender,  
You will remember my name_


	19. Cujo

**Author Note: I've been doing a good job of not crying so far, but Cujo- gosh, Cujo is in my top favorites when it comes to DP ghosts. As for where the idea comes from- it's canon, at least I'm pretty sure it's the canon story. I know that he was a guard for Axon Labs and he did get put down. Thus, the one story that my eyes got a bit misty at.**

**And sorry about the spelling error, Ember McClain is actually Ember McLain. I have a very bad hearing loss and I misheard it in the show so my bad. However, it works out. It can also be that perhaps she changed it when she became a ghost so that her father wouldn't know that it was her when she became famous?**

**~CWA **

**(P.S. Thank you for all the ideas and please review! I'm not sure what breed of dog Cujo is- but he looks a bit like a pit bull.)**

**Cujo:**

Thomas Cage couldn't help but smile at the small guard dog at the gate of Axon Labs. Cujo wasn't exactly the biggest guard dog on the force, but he wasn't any push over. After a year of working at Axon labs, Thomas learned that despite the tough exterior, Cujo was truly a puppy at heart with a soft spot for a squeaky toy.

The Pit Bull barked at him happily and Thomas patted its head. If he could, Thomas would gladly take Cujo home with him. But alas, it could not be since the dog belonged to Axon Labs. Still, a part of him hoped that the dog might just get away from the Labs by escaping just long enough to find a new, happier home.

As he passed the dog on his way in, Thomas reached into his pocket and pulled out a treat. Cujo gobbled it up happily and then ran off to guard another section of the building, but not before he grabbed his squeaky toy in his mouth. That small toy had to be the one luxury item that the lab allowed simply so that the animal cares weren't all over their case. Though that didn't stop the higher ups from placing the dogs in cages.

* * *

Thomas currently stood in the middle of the control room, arguing with one of his bosses. His fists were clenched and he gritted his teeth.

"We have to put him down Thomas," Frank informed him, "There's no need for dogs in this day and age. We have electric fences, cameras, everything. Why do we need a mutt?"

It just wasn't fair. Why couldn't they take the dogs to an animal shelter? Nope, that cost too much time and money, plus 'no one would adopt them' as Frank had said. Couldn't they get the workers to take in dogs? Nope, no one was offering and no one wanted anyway. Thomas couldn't get a dog- as much as he would like to- he has a small daughter to take care of and he couldn't add the cost of a dog.

"Are you sure we can't take them to an animal shelter," Thomas repeated.

"No would adopt them. Let's face it- they're mean mutts."

"Not Cujo."

"Cujo's the worst and you know it."

Thomas kept his mouth shut. Cujo was the worst when he got angered. He took down other dogs that were bigger than him if they took his toy- yet another reason why he wouldn't take in his favorite dog. Cujo was unstable and temperamental- but a heck of a guard dog.

* * *

As the cages that held the dogs were shipped away into the back of an animal shelter van, on their way to be put down, Thomas watched with almost tearful eyes. It was a sad sight to see. Cujo's eyes looked at him sadly- innocently and sadly. Thomas bit his lip slightly.

"At least get his toy," Thomas pleaded with Frank.

Frank scoffed,

"That old thing? It's somewhere in the lab- the bottom level I think. No time to get it- sorry."

He didn't sound sorry at all.

* * *

Cujo didn't know what was happening. He didn't think that he did anything wrong- so why were they shipping him away? The nice man that gave him treats had looked at him so sadly. Cujo didn't really want the man to be sad- he was a nice man.

A meaner man took him out of the cage harshly. Cujo didn't bother to fight back like the others did. He was scared- if he did bite someone, what would happen? Especially since they had sent him away when he didn't do anything.

He wasn't sure what was happening to him, but he knew one thing-

He wanted his toy.

He never got it.


	20. Amorpho

**Author Note: Never realized just how many ghosts there was in the show- oh my god. Idea for Amorpho goes to _allietheepic7. _Thank you bunches, darling! Sorry for the late update I've been very busy since semester finals are coming up soon (my school ends the 23rd and we do our finals the last week of school).  
**

**~CWA**

**(P.S. Happy Mother's Day!)**

**Amorpho:**

Mathew King pushed his red glasses up as he smirked. His disguise worked like a charm- he got into the art gallery party without a hitch. He was, after all, a master of disguise for a reason- hence why he was known as Amorpho for his ability to 'morph' into a new person entirely. Though, the down side was that he wasn't as famous as he wanted to be. All of his thefts were blamed on other thieves- everyone but him. It wasn't fair. He wanted to be famous and get the credit he deserved.

As he walked through the art gallery, he pretended to examine the works of art. He secretly took pictures of the art with the ring on his finger that was really a camera. He needed to get good pictures of each piece of art for his boss, who wanted to steal a very specific piece, but wouldn't mind stealing another piece or two if it was worth it.

"Mister King."

Mathew froze. He hadn't entered the gallery under his own name- so who was calling him? Then the voice registered. He calmly turned around to face his enemy- Nathaniel Heart. His blonde hair brushed his chin and his golden eyes were narrowed at Mathew. Nathaniel was a master thief as well as a mercenary. He was also, more importantly, a very big enemy to Mathew King. The two had a feud as old as time- they used to be partners for heists. Then Nathaniel betrayed Mathew though Nathaniel insists that it was Mathew who betrayed _him_. Either way, it ignited a fire of betrayal between the two- a fire that wanted to destroy and kill.

The first thing that Mathew noticed was the gun in Nathaniel's pocket.

"Now come with me quietly," Nathaniel whispered, "Public place be damned. I'll shoot you."

Mathew didn't make a move- he wasn't scared of Nathaniel. He hated his ex-partner. He would never listen to a word Nathaniel said- his own regard for life was thrown out the window when it came to the feud.

"Move," Nathaniel ordered.

"No."

"Your funeral."

The bullet pierced his body. Screams of panicked art-lovers were heard. Nathaniel calmly walked away during the panic, leaving Mathew to fall to the ground. It almost felt like drowning from the blood in his lungs and the pain was searing… Then it all just stopped as he attempted to take his last breath.


	21. Sydney Poindexter

**Author Note: So close to the end! Just four to five more chapters till go till Clockwork! By the way, I have a sort of idea. I think that since Sydney Poindexter's lair was the school because he held so much resentment and because he never thought higher of himself, or pictured himself with something that would make him happy, the bullies still pick on him there. Kind of sad that even in death, he's never happy- well, until the whole episode where Danny and him switch places and Danny makes it a bit better there.**

**Another reason I think his lair was the school was because his last earthly possession (the mirror) was at the school and his spirit got attached to it, creating some sort of link.**

**It's a bit more complicated than that and hard to explain though. **  
** ~CWA**

**(P.S. WARNING- SENSITIVE SUBJECT! READ WITH CAUTION!)**

**Sydney Poindexter:**

He was looked at himself in the mirror that hung in the locker. The mirror was put there by some classmates- a joke about how he'll keep himself company in the locker. It wasn't like he had any friends that would help him out anyway. If he took the mirror down, he would just get beat up. So he forced himself to almost like the mirror inside his locker. To his surprise, he did end up liking the mirror. Because he could keep himself company- there was nothing wrong with talking to yourself while looking in a mirror. He was his own best friend.

"Hey Poindexter," one of the cool guys sneered.

Sydney Poindexter winced and mentally prepared himself for the beating. He closed his eyes tightly. There were two hands on his shoulders, but there was no pain. When he opened his eyes- he was inside his locker.

"Typical," he sighed.

They always did that- stuff him in the lockers, tease him, bully him, beat him, and much more. He should be used to it by now, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. He hated bullies and he hated people picking on him or even others. He wished that he were strong enough to protect other people and himself from bullies.

There was nothing worse than a bully. What could make someone stoop so low as to make them hurt other people, especially someone lower than they? They weren't very humane.

* * *

Sometimes, he wondered if things would be easier if he were to just end it. He wondered if it would all end. Would he finally be happy? Would he be at peace? Would he be free? Anything was better from where he was now. Was there anything here that could act as his anchor to hold him here? He didn't have any friends. His mother didn't care about him. He had no one to hold him to this Earth.

He sulked slightly, the depressing thoughts still running through his mind. He made it to all the way through the day, but as another bully shoved him into a locker, teasing him, he made his choice.

There was no going back now.

* * *

At school the next day, things seemed a bit empty. There was a somber silence in the air. Sydney Poindexter wasn't anywhere to be seen for once and he never missed a class. Something was wrong- they just couldn't place what.

"Where's Poindexter," one of the guys asked, "I need a punching bag today!"

He laughed and his buddies did too. A girl that was passing by stopped in her tracks and looked at him horrified,

"You!"

"Me?"

"You didn't hear the news," she said as she shook her head, "Poindexter's dead. Killed himself- a few slits to the wrist, then nothin'!"

She continued to shake her head as she left, leaving the guys to stand there in shock. They couldn't believe it. Sydney Poindexter was dead. He had killed himself. Was it because of them? Was it because of what they did?

More importantly, if they were nicer, would it have changed anything?


	22. Lunch Lady

**Author Note: Sorry so many things going on- semester finals are coming up and today I was helping my mom at the school she works at. Plus, I just got my driver's permit not long ago and just went for my first drive the other day- which I did better than I thought I would since I only messed up like three times which is good considering that I was driving for two hours.**

**PLUS MY LAPTOP HAS BEEN ACTING UP DANG IT!**

**~CWA**

**(P.S. Special thanks to _Iblamepie_ for the idea!)**

**Lunch Lady:**

Wanda Denier smiled to herself as she watched her grandchildren from her front porch. She lived a happy, _full_ life with her husband- how had passed the year prior. She had two beautiful daughters (Tina and Sherri). She had six wonderful grandchildren (Olivia, Bella, David, Trevor, Jamie, and Terra). What more could she ask for? Maybe a longer life.

Now some might say that she might live even longer if she was to eat healthier, but it wasn't that simple. She just couldn't eat healthier. It wasn't in her nature. Her nature was to eat until she was full- even if it led to being a bit over plump. She was raised with little food and on the streets. She saw what starvation could do people- especially young ones- that was why she was a wonderful lunch lady who enjoyed her job. She was feeding children that might not get a meal at home so she did her best to give them more than enough to add some meat to their bones.

Not a single child would starve under her watch… Except for _that_ child.

His name was Daniel Cunning. He was fourteen and went to the school where she worked. He was underweight, she remembered, and a bit shorter than a few of the other students. He always got a tray of food from her, sat in the back all alone, and never touched his food. He didn't have any friends and always recoiled from others besides a few select teachers. She remembered she could tell that the child was underweight because his jeans were baggy and his sweatshirt was hanging low on his body. His cheekbones became more visible each passing day. His black hair was always limp from lack of nutrients. His skin was becoming paler. His hands were always a bit shaky and boney.

For that reason, there always seemed to be something missing in her life- like the last piece to a puzzle.

* * *

As she lay on her bed, her hair turned silver and thinned out from the many years of wearing a hair net. Her skin was a bit paler, but she retained her plump figure. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what she could. She couldn't remember much. Her memory, due to her old age, had been fading. It was a miracle that she could remember what she did. She remembered her name. She remembered her old job. She remembered her husband's name. She remembered how old she was.

More importantly, she remembered her mission to feed every starving child and she remembered the haunting eyes of Daniel Cunning. With her eyes closed, she could bring up the recalled image of his blue eyes. They were always so dull and lacked the spark of youth. They looked as if they knew something that others didn't. The eyes haunted her.

As she took her last breath, the image of the eyes of the one child she couldn't feed still burned into her mind.

She remembered that her mission had failed.


	23. Technus

**Author Note: Countdown till Clockwork- 2 to 3 more chapters and then Clockwork! By the way, I have an idea that Lunch Lady had the potential to be very sweet when she wanted to be. She seemed to only be angry towards Danny (Daniel) and because of her cause of death last chapter, she could be angry towards Daniel because he resembles that teen that caused her mission to be failed. If that makes sense.**

**Okay, sorry for the sort of late update- again this week is finals week and school (And friends and family) come first. Though luckily for you guys, I am in online school and only have one test a day so I have too much free time after I do that test for that day.  
**

**I hope I got how electricity and being grounded right. If not, I apologize. **

**~CWA**

******(P.S. This story is getting frustrating just because it's so close to the end, yet so far at the same time)**

**Technus:**

Nicolai Technus was a smart engineer of his time, which was he was employed at the expo to work with the scientists. Granted, sometimes his mouth got him in trouble. It was because of his mouth that he earned the nickname, 'Runner.' He was always running his mouth. Now, it wasn't bad things that came out his mouth. It wasn't gossip like Dr. Stewart. It wasn't complaints like the ones from Dr. Drew. It wasn't fake and bubbly like Dr. Karren. Everything that came out of Dr. Technus' mouth had something to do with his project, which didn't sound too bad until you heard how he talked about the project… and occasionally referred to himself in the third person.

"I, Nicolai Technus, shall complete this project," Dr. Technus said as he puffed out his chest in pride.

The nearby scientists merely rolled their eyes. The project in question was rather complex. It was meant to be the 'ultimate computer.' Should it be completed and work, it would make Apple look like a little kid's toy. It would be able to do anything and everything should it work and Nicolai Technus was determined to make it work.

"Give it up, Dr. Technus," Dr. Karren said.

"I, Nicolai Technus, never give up!"

* * *

His face scrunched up in concentration as he looked over his work. It should work- there wasn't any reason he could see as to why it wouldn't. With that in mind, he plugged in the machine only to sigh in frustration when nothing- _not even a spark_- showed from the large computer.

Running a hand through his hair, he grumbled to himself about the failed project.

He was the only one at the expo. He was the only one willing to stay there for over time in order to work on his project. Truthfully, it was the only time he could work on his project. When the others were there it was always, '_Technus do this!' 'Technus, you're the engineer do something!' 'Can you give me a hand?' 'Technus do that!' _He never had a chance for himself when the others were there. So as a result, he found peace working alone after hours to finish his project and it _would_ get finished. It _would_ work. He wasn't sure what he would do if it didn't.

He rubbed his chin in thought as he paced the floor, thinking about all the ways he could make it work. Finally, he got an idea. He unplugged the machine and worked on the inside components a bit. He snipped a wire there, a wire here, and placed a chip there, took out this and that, put in that and this… When he was finally content, he put it all back together with a smile of satisfaction.

He frowned suddenly, remembering that he should have done something different. He took it back apart, but didn't bother to unplug it from the large core that the expo used for power- which was far more powerful than any normal socket. Aside from the mistake of not unplugging it, he also forgot another important thing- he was grounded when he touched the live wires.

The thing with electricity- it was always running, flowing, moving. It just needed something to flow _through_. When you plug and unplug something, for the most part, you're safe. The electricity doesn't do any harm. If you are grounded, holding just one piece of metal, plugging something in or out will shock you or kill you- that's just when plugging something in. Now imagine if you were actually holding the live wire as you were grounded and it wasn't just the normal amount of electricity- it was a large core generator that was producing the electricity. The electricity wouldn't just shock you _or_ kill you. It would kill you- that was exactly what was happening to Nicolai Technus.

The hairs on his neck stood on end as thousands of volts of electricity passed through him, shocking him…

It was a painful way to go…

And he didn't even finish his project.


	24. Vortex

**Author Note: **

**PLEASE TAKE THE POLL UP ON MY PROFILE IT WOULD HELP BUNCHES! THANK YOU, DARLINGS!**

**This has to be the one chapter I cried buckets of tears from. I am warning you now that this is a bit of a sensitive subject for some people (I added the same warning to Syndey Poindexter's story and Ember McClain's- I just didn't remember to do it earlier). I say this warning even if it is for a tornado because I know how something like that can traumatize someone.**

**With that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please if you are sensitive to the subject of tornadoes and their damage (which is perfectly okay) read with caution, or just not read please. **

**The idea for this chapter goes to Skellington Girl, but darling his name is Vortex not Cyclone :)**

**~CWA**

**(WARNING- SENSITIVE SUBJECT AHEAD! READ WITH CAUTION!)**

**Vortex:**

Brishen Vortex smiled to himself as he completed that day's weather report.

"And we're off."

Brishen sighed in relief as he straightened his tie. He honestly loved his job. He loved reporting the weather because he admired Mother Nature and how they were so helpless against her. With just one rain cloud, Mother Nature could ruin someone's whole day, plans would be canceled, and emotions would be bleak. No matter how much they tried, humans could never control nor match Mother Nature. To him, it was fascinating. It was simply amazing just what Mother Nature could ruin and create with just one strong gust of wind, one tidal wave, or one storm… It was chaotically beautiful.

It was why he was a weatherman in the first place; he loved telling people about the weather and in a way, it made him feel a bit more in control. Still, nothing could compare to Mother Nature even if he tried.

* * *

The sirens are loud and long, howling out the warning. He didn't panic; he knew exactly what he needed to do even if they had no storm shelter to protect them. He gathered up his wife and his kids. He put the bike helmets on them, grabbed the mattress, and they all were shoved into the bath tub- the only place that wasn't against an outside wall.

His daughter was crying and clinging to her mother, her eyes shut tightly. She was only seven years old and she wasn't sure what was going on- just that the loud noises meant large winds. His son was near the brink of crying, clutching his teddy bear. He was four years old and he was getting scared since 'big sissy' was crying. His wife was trying her best to keep calm, but he could tell that she was worried.

It sounded like a large freight train was going over their heads. Despite the walls that separated them from the outside, they could all hear it too well. His wife clung to their children as they could feel it getting closer. The walls were quickly torn apart and the mattress was lifted up into the air. Screaming was hardly heard over the loud winds.

They only thing that they could do was pray.

* * *

The wind was deathly calm. The silence was only broken by the sobs of the people who just lost their homes. Loved ones clung to each other while other desperately tried to use their cell phones to call friends and other family members to make sure that they were okay. Debris was everywhere. Houses were smashed to just the foundation, their wooden frames and bricks crashed and spread out. Personal items of the house weren't even at the house anymore. The items are buried under debris or as far way as miles- more than likely, broken, dirtied, or torn.

The event would forever be remembered in their minds. The trauma couldn't be compared to anything else. Nothing could compare to just being in your house no more than an hour ago, then coming out to see absolutely nothing- _nothing_.

Items could be replaced. Buildings could be rebuilt. Lives, however, lives were something different. Lives couldn't be replaced or bought. The people lost were gone forever, but hopefully their memories lived on.

It wasn't until a few weeks after the tornado, that three crosses were put near one of the destroyed houses. It wasn't even a house anymore- just the foundation. Flowers were scattered at the bottom of each cross. Each cross had a name written across it, _Isaac Vortex, Lilith Vortex, Anna Vortex, _and finally, _Brishen Vortex._

**_In honor of the anniversary of the Oklahoma EF5 tornado that hit May 20th of last year._**


	25. Pariah Dark & Fright Knight

**Author Note:**

**To Phantom Earth- **I'm glad you got out of the state before the tornado happened. It still breaks my heart. I was crying while writing the chapter because it was my town that was hit- roughly half the town was destroyed and I had a friend injured and so many friends and people that I knew that lost their homes. So many were injured and a few died- we even lost our one hospital (so now we have to go all the way to Norman or OKC just to go to the hospital). However, they just did the ground break the other day (on the anniversary) to rebuild the hospital. I'm blessed because my house didn't get hit, however, but it's just… It's terrifying. It really is very scary because the tornado kind of skipped over my house (it hit the area behind us) and all we could hear was just the wind and it sounded like just a giant train. Then coming out and seeing all the debris and walking simply up the street and seeing all the power lines laying on the ground and the school's gym gone and houses hit… Oh boy, I'm gonna cry again. Anyway, thanks for the review.  
**~CWA**

**Pariah Dark & Fright Knight:**

He was known as Fright Knight for a very good reason and he refused to be referred to as anything else. He struck fear into others with so much as a glare. He beheaded anyone who so much as looked at him wrong. He was cruel. He was evil. However, he was a loyal knight. He wouldn't dare try to go against the king, Pariah Dark- the one man who was crueler, eviler, and _scarier_ than Fright Knight. At least, that was what he wanted everyone to believe.

"Will it work," Fright Knight asked quietly and the shaman nodded,

"Yes, yes… Slip this into his drink and the king shall be dead in a mere few minutes. Even if he took a drink and realized it was a poison there would be no time for him to get an antidote."

Fright Knight nodded,

"Good."

Pariah Dark was just that- a pariah. He did nothing but create chaos and destroy. He was like a personified plague with the sole purpose of killing everyone and taking over with no possible cure besides death. He would kill for the sake of killing. He had no moral. When he got bored, he started wars and he _won_ the wars. Fright Knight might have been bad, but he was nowhere near _that_ bad.

"Down with the king," the shaman whispered.

"Down with the king," Fright Knight repeated softly.

And the king shall fall.

* * *

Pariah Dark narrowed his eyes as he took a sip of his drink. Fright Knight was sneaky and he wasn't stupid. He slipped the poison in after the taste tester had tasted it. Pariah smacked his lips and then growled.

"Fright Knight, your Soul Shredder," Pariah ordered.

Fright Knight cautiously handed over his sword that was specially made to be stronger than any armor- hence the term Soul Shredder. Without a second thought, Pariah took the sword and pierced Fright Knight's chest, twisting the sword inside the body.

"If I go down, I take you with me to serve me," Pariah hissed, "You are my most loyal knight. You should feel honored to serve me in death."

Fright Knight didn't dare cry out in his weakest moment. He wasn't sure what to think. Should he be relieved that Pariah didn't know it was the loyal knight that betrayed him? He didn't fear death- he was a knight and he would die with pride… It was the idea of serving Pariah Dark even in death that scared him.

He recognized the taste of the poison. He knew that he probably had a mere minute before the poison would kill him. However, he could cause as much chaos as he could in that minute. He did not fear death. He was no coward. He was, however, betrayed. He just wasn't sure by whom. He did know, however, that if he was going to go down, he would be sure to have his most loyal knight by his side in the afterlife.


	26. The Observants

**Author Note: **

**Please take the poll on my profile I'll be taking it down in a few days and it's that poll that decides what fic I will do next! **

**I did get a few questions if I would be doing the Observants and the answer was no until I started to think of why it would be no and I thought of how I could do it. So I finally figured out how to do it, and now I present: Stories of the Dead- Observants.**

**~CWA**

**(P.S. A few bad swears ahead! And next up will be Clockwork!)**

**Observants:**

The court was a place that not a single person ever wanted to be. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of the judge's glare or the observing eyes of the jury. No one wanted to be sentenced for something they did or didn't do.

But there he stood. A man accused of murder stood there in front of the court, his face in a scowl. To the side of the court, stood the jury. Each member of the jury looked so different, but they thought the same- they were one and they were justice. In their minds, it was them that decided who went free and who went to jail. It was them. They were the power in the court, not the judge- in their minds. They were… the Observants. They observed. They listened. They judged.

It was their decision that caused that accused man to be sentenced for years in prison. As he was forced out of the court, he was cursing at the top of his lungs,

"I fucking swear! I'll get my revenge! I'll be back! You all will fucking pay!"

They paid no mind. There have been many times where people they've sent off before have made that empty threat, why should this one be any different? They were wrong to just blow it off. For that man was a man of his word.

* * *

He came back the first chance he got which was a few weeks after he got out of jail. He would have done it sooner, but he needed to get supplies. He needed to prepare. It was all their fault though- that jury. It was the jury that made the decision to sentence him to jail. It was their fault that his wife left him and took custody of his kid. He lost years of his life in that jail cell. He did things in that prison. He had _seen_ things in that prison. It was their entire fault. He had nothing else to live for and he was going to make them pay. There was nothing more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose.

So there he found himself, casually walking into the courtroom since it was a public trail. He sat towards the back in the overly large jacket. Not a single person gave him a single glance despite the fact that he thought he might've looked suspicious. The large coat hid what was underneath and what was attached to him. His eyes showed anxiety and eagerness, but his mouth wore a scowl. His hair was tussled, his body reeked, and his face was slightly unshaven since he had no care for his hygiene- not when there was a swear to fulfill. His finger lay on the trigger, twitching eagerly. Soon they would all pay.

The observant jury spared him a moment's glance, all of them thinking that man in the back looked oddly familiar. Though they just couldn't place from where they had seen him before. He took that as a signal to continue. He stood up, the coat opening slightly to reveal the mechanisms underneath- all the wires and chemicals that formed the homemade bomb.

"I'm back," he said, "And you will all pay."

Then he pressed the trigger with no regrets.


	27. Clockwork

**Author Note: Please take the poll on my profile, I'd appreciate it darlings~**

**~CWA**

**Clockwork:**

Charles Worth was nicknamed as Clockwork over the years for his work using clock gears and clocks in generals- or even watches. He worked at the old shop down on Baker Street and has worked there- even owned the shop- for years. Not once has he even thought about another profession and not once has he left his shop besides to get something essential. When questioned about his love for the clockwork, he would usually give an offhand comment, a joke, about how he 'worked with time.'

No one understood why he loved his work- and oh did he love it so. To him, there was nothing more pleasurable than to sit down and work on a clock- to see all the gears, the nocks, and the crannies. To see every little scrape and scratch on each gear and to see every little notch in every gear- seeing how well they fit together… To see the gears turn and the hands move, it was watching time in motion. To him, working on a clock was more than a simple job; it was like having all the time in your hands.

So there he sat that late night, his body old, fragile, and shaky as he bent over the workbench. A small lamp leaned over his hands and his glasses were focused on one small gear of the clock. His hands were shaking, due to arthritis developing, but he paid no mind. To him, aging wasn't something that was permanent- to him, life was always in motion and when he has lived so long, it was almost as if he could see the past, the present, and the future at once. So what was the point of whining about the future when he knew that one day he would die? Yes, people usually worried about such things, but to him it was simply inevitable. Everyone died with time- sometimes they died young, sometimes they died old. Sometimes a death was claimed as an accident. Yet to Charles, there was no accident. Every death, every event, had happened for a reason.

Don't get him wrong, however. Just because he knew that everyone died when it was their time, he didn't plan on making funeral plans for his children or even his young granddaughter just yet- despite just how old his children, and grandchildren, were getting.

He smiled as he worked, thinking about his family- he lived a long, happy life indeed. Though many would say that it wasn't happy and would proclaim it a miracle he found love when all he did was work on clocks. Still, he did find love. It was a very long time ago, when he first started working on clocks- learning from his grandfather. He had met a young, petite beautiful woman by the name of Isabelle. Eventually, they did get married and they did have two children- two beautiful daughters. Still, clockwork took up a lot of his time and even took up more time when his daughter died back when she was seven due to an illness… or when his wife died from a heart attack the previous year.

He observed the gear in his hand as he held it up to the light, concentrating. Though, he still thought about his daughter, Susana, and her husband. He thought about his teenage grandchildren. _Life is but a clock with a battery that will eventually die. But it still lives out its life, completely and fully. _

* * *

"Room 145, second floor," a nurse instructed.

Susana nodded eagerly and practically ran to the elevator. She was alone- her husband was at work (planning on coming by later), and her kids were at school. Susana had to come to the hospital alone just to see her father, who had arrived from a heart attack. The last one he had, he almost didn't make it.

When she walked through, the first thing she noticed was her father lying in the hospital bed. His fragile skin looked thin, showing the veins that lay underneath. Around his mouth was an oxygen mask and he was hooked up to a heart monitor. Yet, he still held a small clock in his hand- fixing it like he always did so many times.

"Dad," Susana cried as she moved to get beside him.

He smiled softly and his eyes were half closed.

"Susana," he whispered.

"Dad, you should be resting, not fixing that clock. Please get some rest…"

"If I get some rest, I fear I might not wake up," Charles coughed slightly.

Susana looked at her father in fear and tears in her eyes.

"Dad, you…"

"Oh, don't you worry," he said dismissively, "I'll just get this clock done- it'll be my millionth clock, isn't that something? Then maybe… I'll get some final rest…"

"Stop it," Susana said firmly, "Stop talking that."

"Don't worry," Charles smiled, "I know you'll be fine, but eventually everyone runs out of time… My clock has been ticking for too long, Susana, and it's about to stop… I love you…"

"I love you too," she bit her lip and held one of his hands.

His other hand continued to work on the clock- _just one more gear to turn…_ But the turn was never made, that final clock was left unfinished- forever.


End file.
